Stick with Trigger and You'll Make It
by JustMonikammmmmmmmmm
Summary: Trigger's got a chance to do it all over again, and with some crazy hardware to boot. Just this once, everybody lives...? (Rated T for language. Updated when I feel like it. Inspired by posts on /r/acecombat. Leave a review or ya mum's a hoe [but still a wonderful lady!], I need feedback!)
1. Operation Deer Horn

**A/N: Yeah, okay, it's not A Little Bit of Monika; said fic is still not dead, I promise. But I was reading a series of posts on /r/acecombat, in the style of a -chan-like greentext, about Trigger doing a NG+ run and clearly knowing too much. I've said before I'm not a fan of harem-style stuff and I also thought they made Trigger a little creepier than he needed to be, so I decided to take a crack at it myself. Not that I'm dumpstering the guy who's making the post series. It's excellent. Wiseman's and Full Band's final posts really sold me. I just decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world (which is why I've also got a crossover rolling around in the back of my head that I really wish there were more of and is currently in draft stage for the first chapter), so this is a more serious take on the concept, from either a completely Trigger POV or a mostly Trigger one.**

**I'm filling in bits and bobs of information here and there to make the world a little more full, in much the same way I filled in gaps in DDLC lore in A Little Bit of Monika - emphasis on making it mesh well and add to the story and not stick out like a sore thumb, only doing it to make the world more complete or add a little bit of depth to characters. There will be a minimum of new characters, and I'm certainly not going to do some kind of "Trigger is secretly Mobius 1/Cipher/Gryphus 1/etc" twist.**

**I'll be sort of glossing over the insane missile counts in the Ace Combat series. The plot doesn't make too much sense without them - neither Trigger nor any of the aces before could possibly do what they've done without having 100+ devices strapped to their planes - so I have to leave them in, but we're just kinda gonna leave it hanging there and not draw attention to it.**

**I am a slut for feedback, so hit me with that shit immediately.**

**/**

_Wade "Trigger" Francis_

The alarm on my phone next to my bunk went off with all the subtlety of a foghorn. I reached over to shut it off. "Ughhhhh, Avril, why do we need to…"

I stopped dead.

_May 15 2019 0630_

_**Excuse me what.**_

**/**

_Mage 2 "Trigger," Federation of Central Erusea NAS Fort Grays Island_

_Think, Trigger. You've started all over again. You're not dreaming, this is real. Which means you've got a chance to do everything differently this time._

A slide show of the friends I lost in the senseless Lighthouse War paraded past my mind's eye. Brownie. High Roller. Champ. Full Band. Wiseman. Wit. Not to mention Harling. None of them deserved what happened to them. _War isn't Hell. War is war and Hell is Hell, and of the two, war is a lot worse. Sinners go to Hell; there are no innocent bystanders. But war is chock full of them. Little kids, cripples, old ladies - in fact, except for a few of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander. _

_But with another shot… I've got a whole list of people to save. Hell, maybe I can end this war a whole lot faster._

The briefing went exactly the same way I remembered it going. A general readiness instruction and situation report about the increasing tension on the continent and reports of attacks on IUN installations, interrupted by the pancaking of several sticks of bombs on the installation, at exactly the same point in the briefing.

"Not your first rodeo, eh, Trigger?"

Making a good half-running pace towards the hangars, I heard my flight lead, Clown, behind me. He caught up to me and matched pace.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, shoot, you didn't even flinch when those bombers hit."

_Oh, yeah. People aren't stupid. They're gonna notice if I'm too… prescient._

"Tell you the truth, boss, I was expecting something to happen. The carrier in the harbor is a major asset. As soon as I heard about bases getting hit, I just knew we were gonna get some ourselves."

Clown nodded. "Fair enough." He clapped me on the back and made for his plane. "You're a smart man, Trigger. I think you'll go far. Let's blow these bastards out of our skies."

I got my second heart attack of the day when I peered inside my hangar. I'd been pondering what plane I'd want to take on a sortie like this, before coming to the conclusion that I just missed my old Sukhoi 35; unfortunately, I was probably gonna get stuck with the same F-16 I flew on this same sortie before. But lo and behold, immaculately parked in the center of the hangar, loaded for bear with R-60Ms and long-range R-77-PDs, there sat my beautiful Su-35S, tuned exactly the way I'd left it.

_**ExcusemeWHAT.**_

**/**

"Hurry, Mage squadron!" the controller in the tower urged Clown and I over the radio. "Trigger, your callsign is Mage 2. Verify and read back."

"Copy, tower, this is Mage 2 Trigger."

"Mage 2, cleared for takeoff."

I didn't even wait for the tower to finish before I gunned the engine to full takeoff power and barreled off the runway, probably a little faster than I really needed to - but lives were at stake on the ground, so, scratch that.

"Whoa there. Mage 2, altitude restriction's lifted. Good luck!"

I switched frequencies to match up with Sky Keeper, our AWACS craft, and the others already in the sky. Immediately, their voices came through. Including one that singlehandedly brought me more joy than anything had in years.

"The carrier… Whoa! Looks like the harbor's taken a lot of damage…"

I don't think I could ever explain what it's like to hear the voice, alive again, of someone who you literally watched die. But here was Golem 2 Brownie's tones coming loud and clear over the radio. I had to bite back my urge to say anything on the subject.

"Yeah," I replied, "I just flew past it. I'm no expert but the Albatross looks like a loss." _Albaloss? my internal monologue cut in._ "We've just gotta keep these bastards from doing any more damage, or we won't have a runway to get back to."

"You're right. Can't let the base take any more damage. Time to stop the bullshit," Knocker, Brownie's Golem flight lead, cut in. "Mage 2, form up with Mage 1. It's go-time."

I had no such plans. I was the best damn pilot Usea had seen in at least fifteen years and I knew it. Arrogant of me? A little. But the faster the intercept got handled, the better. Less IUN deaths was my goal, and I knew from experience I could deal with it.

"Clown, enemy bomber bearing 350. I'm closing to missile range," I told my lead by way of warning, and blasted off at full burn. The fuel consumption be damned, the Flanker's tanks could handle it. "Trigger, fox three," I called, almost immediately.

Then, a new voice over the radio. "This is AWACS Sky Keeper. Take down all unidentified bombers, not many escorts on my scopes." A brief pause; the Erusean Tu-95 never stood a chance. "Mage 2 just bagged one already. Good job, keep it up. Be advised we do not have ground-based radar at this time, so be careful."

_Hmm. I suppose it's to be expected, they're not saying quite the same things this time around. I mean, I'm not acting the same or saying the same things either, so that follows nicely. Still. Proof that the timeline isn't fixed. That's good news._

"Hey, Trigger," Clown broke in. "You're flying with _me _now. That's what it means to be an element, you got it?"

_Guess that line makes a lot more sense when I'm halfway to the other side of the operation space._

"Copy that. Just looking for that bomber's friends. We gotta get these a-holes away from the harbor," I said, trying to come up with some excuse that'd let me fly off independently. Clown wasn't a huge stickler for protocol, so I was hoping he'd roll with it given the situation.

Clown sighed. "If you say so, Trigger."

AWACS pinged the location of another bomber and a pair of escorts to my northwest; again, they were nearly already in range. "Trigger, fox three, fox three, fox three!" I reported.

Three Adders blasted off the rails and found their targets - _not maneuvering, must be at the edge of their range? _\- without difficulty.

"Targets confirmed down. Good shooting, Mage 2."

Two more bombers and an escort each registered due south, and were dispatched almost instantly.

"Jesus, Trigger, that's eight kills!" came Brownie's voice over the radio.

"And I'm just getting started." Another bomber and another escort. This was too easy.

More flights of enemies joined the fray, but perhaps more importantly, IUN headquarters broke in on the radio. "This is HQ. Are there any drones? Verify."

"HQ, Mage 2 of the 508th at Fort Grays. Possible but unlikely. No specialized drone craft here, just some MiGs and bombers, unless they're being remote-controlled."

I snapped off a pair of R-77s at two more MiG-21s in the east, out of three in the group. Miraculously, one of them managed to shake it and closed the distance, so I launched an Adder at the Tu-160 with them before switching to R-60s and splashing the remaining MiGs with a pair each. The bomber was still maintaining altitude, though. I cursed myself for forgetting that there wasn't enough punch in a single weapon to knock down a Blackjack before finishing it off with another Adder.

"Fort Grays, HQ. I copy no dedicated drones. No reports of remotely-controlled full-sized assets at this time, but keep an eye out, we'll have someone check the footage when you land."

_Nothing from Knocker. Guess I forestalled his little outburst about HQ this time._

"Mage 2's bandit confirmed down," Brownie reported over the radio. "That's… fourteen."

"Damn, Trigger, save some for the rest of us!" Clown laughed.

"Early bird gets the worm, my friends. Better punch it!" I shot back, _punching it _myself. The last enemy formation was due about 220 from my location and on the other side of the operation space. A full five MiGs and four bombers. Easy prey. Five Adders at the fighters. One of them popped chaff but didn't pull enough Gs; the others just ate it. Four Tu-95s and five missiles later - one missile seemed to have a malfunction of some sort and flew off to follow its dreams in the next solar system over* - and the airspace was empty. Calling them fish in a barrel was a grave insult to fish.

Twenty-three kills in one sortie. Most fighter jocks would be lucky to get that in their careers. I'd done it inside of ten minutes.

Damn_, I'm good._

"Golem and Mage, AWACS here. All bandits splashed. Job well done."

_Aaaaand here comes Princess Rosa over the airwaves, right on time. Ugh. Fucking Belkans, bamboozling a poor girl like that._

**/**

_1700 hours, NAS Fort Grays mess hall_

"So Trigger, where the _hell _did you learn to fly like that?" Knocker asked incredulously over a plate of what _pretended _to be pizza. Unfortunately for us, the chow hall had survived the bombing.

I just laughed. That wasn't a question I was even going to risk answering.

"And where on earth did you get that Flanker? Isn't the 508th an F-16 unit?"

That I might be able to shrug off. "It was waiting for me in the hangar. I ain't gonna complain. Beautiful machine." I smiled. "I'm just glad we all made it back in one piece. Not bad for a first flight."

"Damn straight, Trigger," Clown cut in. "But it looks like it's gonna get worse. I see what HQ was on about today. Those drones look like serious work. Almost all of our carriers are mission-killed. Goddamn Eruseans."

"But why would they do this?" I asked, deciding to nudge a little. "The Space Elevator is good for them economically, and their government isn't exactly unstable, so it's not like they really need to go to war to get the population behind 'em. Plus, they know Osea can kick their asses in the long run. It doesn't make sense. I feel like there's something else going on here."

"Like what?" asked Brownie.

"I don't know, Belka?" I gave an exaggerated shrug.

Clown and Brownie laughed - at this point, Belka being behind everything from world wars to your refrigerator breaking a week after the warranty expired was something of a national joke - but Knocker actually thought about it for a moment. "Honestly, you might be onto something there. Not exactly our job to figure these things out, but it would make some sense. Belka's always had amazing aerospace tech, and if Erusea was getting help from them on the side, it'd explain why those drones are apparently so damn good and how they thought they could take us in a fight."

"Huh," I thought aloud, hopefully convincingly. "You really think so?"

"Maybe. It's just a guess, but stranger things have happened. Either way, we still gotta fight Erusea. I mean, they did just bomb us to hell."

"True enough," I replied. "Just so long as everyone stays safe out there. I don't wanna have to knock on somebody's mom's door. No unnecessary risks out there. If they just savaged our carriers like that with drones, I hate to think what their real air force could do to us. If they're not at the end of their range like those chumps today were."

"Yeah, sure, 'no unnecessary risks,' says the guy who probably wasn't within ten klicks of his flight lead for 90% of the sortie today!" Brownie shot back.

"Okay, I deserved that. Still, I did it because friendly lives were at stake on the ground and the airspace was desaturated. Yeah, I'm good, but I'm not _that_ cocky. I don't think I can protect my lead from the other side of the planet or anything, Brownie."

Clown spoke up. "Oh, don't worry too much about me, Trigger. You just do your thing. I can't argue with twenty-three kills."

"Seriously, what the hell did you feed your engines," Knocker asked, "rocket fuel?"

"Allllll skill."

I paused for a moment.

"But seriously, safety first out there, guys," I said, looking right at Brownie. "I've got a bad feeling about the days ahead."

**/**

_0230_

"_He's a predator… the weak get eaten!"_

"_Mage 2! Support!"_

_Mihaly's Su-30 took that moment to fire, and with that, Brownie's life was snuffed out after a solid minute of screams and abject terror._

I awoke in a cold sweat. _Fuck._

**/**

**A/N: So there's Operation Deer Horn down. Short, sweet, and to the point. As simple as an Ace Combat opener can be, in the long tradition of "your first mission is always a bomber intercept with minimal fuss." Except maybe 6, kinda sorta. Anyway, this is the general structure we'll be dealing with. Trigger's efforts to avoid some of the deaths that really hit him hard in the campaign - by my imagining anyway - and maybe see if he can end this senseless Lighthouse War sooner rather than later. Will he succeed? Not always, spoiler alert. Trigger is still a god of flying, but some things will always be out of his control. It's not like he's gonna be bagging an Arsenal Bird in Operation Dual Wielder, for example (even though he knows how to do it, he'd never have enough time before the APS system went off).**

**Feedback is life.**

***Legitimately, this happened when I was playing through the mission. I have no idea where the fuck that missile went. "I have to go now. My planet needs me."**

**Glossary of technical terms and designations:**

**Su-35S Super Flanker: The most modern current version of the venerable Sukhoi-27 Flanker. Extremely maneuverable and with a ton of engine power behind it, the Su-35S is a terrifying machine.**

**F-16 Fighting Falcon/Viper: The US (and presumably Osean) Air Force's predominant multirole fighter aircraft. Maneuverable and capable of just about any mission, it's a very solid aircraft.**

**MiG-21bis Fishbed: The definitive model of Mikoyan's classic supersonic light fighter design. Highly outdated, from a technical perspective, but dangerous in the right hands. Like a multiplayer pilot going ham with the gun pods.**

**Tu-95MS Bear: A modernized variant of a Soviet turboprop-powered heavy bomber. **

**Tu-160 Blackjack: A swing-wing supersonic Soviet heavy bomber.**

**R-77-PD / AA-12 Adder: A mostly post-Soviet-era (so, Yuke?), fire and forget air to air missile with midcourse inertial autopilot and course corrections from the launching aircraft and terminal phase active radar homing. The PD variant has a ramjet engine for greatly increased speed and range. This is the in-game model for the Su-35S's LAAM.**

**R-60M / AA-8 Aphid: A Soviet short-range, infrared-guided, fire and forget air to air missile. The 1982 R-60M version introduced a better seeker head and had limited all-round capability. It was largely replaced by the R-73/AA-11 Archer in Soviet and later Russian service, but in-game, as the R-73 fills the role of the QAAM on Russian aircraft, they still carry the venerable R-60 as their standard missile.**


	2. Operation Eastern Wind

**Fairly short update for now - there's... okay, not quite as much explanation of technical terms for the layman as there is anything else, but the main story itself is shorter than you might expect. This is, for once, not my fault. There's just not too much happening just yet in terms of in-game plot to work with, and Operation Eastern Wind itself is an open-and-shut deal with not much to say about. That will very much change with Operation Dual Wielder and Operation Lighthouse Keeper and their respective aftermaths.**

**Still, we're already seeing some plot divergence. The story writes itself, and... who knows how long it'll stay on the rails?  
**

/

_May 17, 2019_

_Mage 2 Trigger_

_Fort Grays Island_

I'd spent much of the 16th in and out of preparedness intel briefings on the known state of the Erusean armed forces, plus the general shit the base commander had us filling our time with. Of course, the briefings were entirely unnecessary for me, given my, er, _special _knowledge, but I'm sure it helped my squadronmates, so it couldn't have been a bad thing. Still, in the end, we only got an hour's leisure aside from meals the entire day.

The first time around, I kept to myself when not in a briefing or a mission. Hell, I even generally sat by myself in the chow hall. Not this time. The losses from the war must have done quite a number on me, because I spent every waking moment I had to spare hanging out with Clown, Knocker, and especially Brownie. Getting to know them better was a big priority for me, knowing that I could lose them at any moment - and might well no matter what I did come Operation Lighthouse Keeper, I was unsure.

/

_The previous night, 2105..._

"Well, people, we've got about an hour to relax before shut eye. Any ideas?"

Knocker had just gotten back from writing up the flight schedules - you'd think something like that would rate some poor specialist, but clearly not in the new, slimmed-down twenty-first century Osean Defense Forces. Brownie and Clown had only just finished working with the folks going over the grounds for foreign objects, and I'd been stuck with the weapons crews helping do a last-minute inventory until about 15 minutes prior. The life of a pilot wasn't all flying the friendly skies. Now the crew was assembled in our little lounge with nothing to do.

"Nnnnnnnnnope," I complained. "I was gonna suggest some vidya, but the console got shaken up by the raid yesterday and I think it's busted. I couldn't get it to work earlier. Piece of junk."

A round of heartfelt moans from the bunch.

"Anyone up for some cards?" Clown suggested. "I've got a deck and some chips in my locker. Never know when you're gonna need somethin' like that."

"Yeah, I can live with that," replied Brownie. "Hold-em? Only game I know."

"You betcha. Be right back, folks." My flight lead headed out the door, coming back with a case of poker chips and his playing cards in about a minute.

"So who's dealing?" Knocker piped up as Clown started unpacking. "Gotta fess up, I never learned how to shuffle or deal right."

A laugh from Clown, then: "Ahhhh, it's fine, I'll handle all the dealer stuff."

"And you're still playing too?" Brownie asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Looks like it," Knocker chuckled. "I better not catch you cheating, or I'll make you fly backseater with Trigger tomorrow!"

Clown went pale.

"Oy, what's wrong with that?" I laughed.

"Trigger, don't take this the wrong way, but you fly like a goddamn maniac. I'd like to keep my brain in my head and not slammed down into my backside from the g-forces, thanks." Clown looked down at his cards. _The tiniest hint of a smirk. I can use that._

I just shook my head. "Lucky for you chuckleheads there's no room in the Flanker, or I might just see how y'all like it." A brief pause. "What can I say? I'm just the best there is. Deal me in, would you, Clown? Time's a'wastin'." _Ace of spades, ten of clubs. _

"Eeeeeasy there, Trigger," Knocker said, looking at his own fresh set of cards. _No clear tell there. _"You keep talkin' like that and we'll have to pop the canopy off your bird just so you have space for your head."

I sobered up real quick. "Listen, guys. I'm only going nuts up there because I'm just tryna make sure everyone comes home at the end of the day. That's all."

Brownie gave me a weird look after she checked her own cards. _Was that directed at me or was that about the cards? Hmm. _"You keep talking about that like you know something, Trigger. Something wrong?"

_Oh boy. That's a little close. Think fast._

"Just a feeling. I'll be honest, I'm a bit of a pessimist already, and it doesn't help that I had a nightmare about everybody else buying the farm last night. Wasn't pleasant. People die in war, and I just really, really wanna make sure that it's nobody I care about. Y'know?"

Clown and Knocker were nodding. "Looks like they sent us a recruit who's not just some idiot fresh out of school this time, eh, Clown?" Knocker asked.

"Damn right. They sent me a good one." Clown turned to face me. "War's a vicious thing, true, but don't worry so much. We're the best of the best. We'll be okay out there. But I appreciate you lookin' out for us, rookie."

"What he said. Now shut up and let's forget about that, huh? I'll call the blind. I wanna see that flop," Knocker decided, and the game commenced in earnest.

I couldn't help but notice Brownie giving me odd side-eyes all night. It put me on edge enough that I ended up being the first one out. _I better not have to come clean to her..._

/

I didn't know if this happened to every soldier, but for me, all the lives I took and all the friends I lost came together for me to give me an oddly paradoxical lookout - for someone in my position - of knowing, on a deeply personal level, that life was precious.

So I made the most of it. Would that backfire on me if someone died anyway? Oh, absolutely. Did I care? No. _Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light _and all that.

Which brought me to the 17th and Operation Eastern Wind. A milk run if there ever was one, if my memory served.

The briefing was simple and to the point. Those Erusean bastards had pushed us back way too far - the sheer nerve of them, right? - and by golly we were gonna kick their asses back to Farbanti for it. As the first step, we were going to launch a counteroffensive straight across the Scofields Plateau towards the Space Elevator, and the Fort Grays units were at the tip of the spear. Us flyboys were directed to run SEAD, anti-airfield, and fighter sweep operations to eliminate enemy air and ground defenses in the region before the troops rolled through, and to knock out any air support that showed up to interfere. Easy.

Of course, intel didn't know about the drones, but at this juncture, just the portable MQ-99s, they weren't much of a threat. I was fairly confident I'd be able to wipe the floor with them with my eyes closed. Constant vigilance was the byword for me, though; any of my fellow fighter drivers could die at any moment, and I wasn't about to let that happen.

As for what I was going to fly… I had a suspicion that the hangar would just contain whatever I wanted. Part of me wanted to test this, but another part of me really just wanted to stick with what I was most familiar with for now _(save the insanity for Dual Wielder, buddy)_, and so I mentally decided I just wanted my trusty trademark Flanker-E, this time with Aphids and some Kh-31PK air-to-surface weapons under the wings and nacelles. And sure enough, there my baby was, waiting for me.

_Okay, what the fuck._

/

_Scofields Plateau_

_1000 hours_

Arriving in the AO, Sky Keeper gave us his assessment.

"Your current targets are on rails, but there are still anti-air vehicles and weaponry. Destroy them, but be advised, HQ has directed that collateral damage is to be averted. No damage is to be done to public facilities."

I kicked the jets into full military to gain altitude, then leveled off and gently coasted into Krypton range of the first radar vehicle.

Brownie cut in. "AWACS, be advised, any aircraft we shoot down could land in civilian territory."

The response came from Knocker. "No point in arguing. That's just how war is these days."

I loosed my first weapon at the air defenses. And an easy kill.

"It's poppin' off now, Trigger," Clown sighed. "The war has officially begun."

Three more Kh-31s, three more ground targets down. I gingerly dove back down to pick off a helicopter with an Aphid.

"Target destroyed. Five to go," came AWACS' callout. As if to immediately show him up, another radar and an APC ate another Krypton each, followed up by two more APCs, a SPAAG, and yet another radar. It was unfair, really. "Three to go. Continue to engage at your discretion." I snapped off another pair of Kryptons at another unfortunate APC and radar.

"Enemy interceptors inbound. Prepare to engage in 30 seconds."

"Wilco. Here they come!" rejoined Knocker.

"Understood. Mage 2 engaging," I replied, breaking off my attack run and slamming the engines into a full burn towards the incoming bandits.

"Okay, recruits," Knocker announced. "Remember, pay attention to who's on what side. We have new IFF connected to our satellites, it's always accurate. I don't want any friendly fire out here."

"Guns guns guns," I called, easily knocking out a crossing MiG-21. "Mage 2, fox two, fox two." Executing a fast turn and firing, another MiG bit the dust with almost contemptuous ease. One of the bandits lobbed a missile at me. I just continued my turn and it flew past me harmlessly. "Fox two, fox two!" I called again, quickly dropping the offending Fishbed.

"Holy shit, easy, there, Trigger, save some for the rest of us!" came Clown's voice.

"Enemy is dropping on a residential area," Brownie added over the radio, the tension evident in her voice.

Knocker, per usual, did his best to get her back on the mission. HQ's orders be damned, they were out of touch. Like it or not, we didn't really have much of a choice where we splashed the bandits.

A thought which Clown, of course, immediately vocalized. "Wait, so you want us to take down the enemy without damaging any public facilities? That's gonna be a circus."

"You'd know about circuses, wouldn't you, Clown? Fox two, fox two." I snapped off a pair of Aphids at a flight of Apaches passing below me, but the clouds threw them off and the missiles flew straight into the forest below. "Damn this cloud cover, my missiles are living up to the name," I muttered. I blasted out in a straight line, then came around for another pass. Another callout, and this time a pair of exploding helicopters. I very nearly flew past a third, but put my plane into a post-stall and gunned it down. Caught a little bit of black in my peripheral vision for my troubles. The final Apache managed to get a lock on me, but the extreme angle meant its missile flew off into nowhere. I put the Flanker into a loop and finished off the Apache flight with another Aphid.

A remaining Fishbed very nearly shoved a missile up my tailpipe, but I managed to juke it with a hard left at the last moment. Another pair of Aphids from head-on was sufficient to down it, with its wingman dying shortly thereafter to a cannon barrage, and with it went the last of the Erusean air cover.

"Alright, clean up those last radar vehicles. Nothing in your way now," Knocker observed. Of course, I disregarded this and headed straight for the airfield. First a pair of Kryptons for the SPAAGs on site, then another two for the gas tanks, then two more for the trucks, and then finally I moved in and cleaned up the towers with Aphids. At last I turned my attention to the two radar trucks and an accompanying anti-air gun, which exploded soon thereafter from Kh-31 impacts.

"That was the last radar vehicle. Good work!" Sky Keeper announced. "Continue with the mission. Crush as many as you can." The control tower ate another Krypton almost as soon as he finished speaking.

A set of C-17s tried to take off from the airfield to make their escape, but I dumbfired my Kryptons into two of them, destroying them instantly, before turning my attention to the final bird attempting to make a run for it, finishing it off with a combination of Aphids and cannon fire.

_Oh. Right. Now the drones. This is where the fun begins. _

I gained altitude and speed as rapidly as I could, my whole body pressing back into the seat, and kept my eyes out. "Keep your eyes peeled for reinforcements, guys. I doubt they're finished just yet," I warned. Sure enough, right on time, the Erusean trucks launched their parting gift into the skies.

And then something strange - a new contact on my radar. _That wasn't there last time… there's a Fulcrum trying to take off from the airfield. What in the world? _I wasn't about to give it the chance to get in the air and possibly do some kind of shenanigans, so I dive bombed it, dumbfiring my last Kh-31s at it, and blew it to hell before nosing back up and making a beeline for the drones.

"...Judging by the way they look and move, they've gotta be… drones," Clown was saying.

"Mage 2, concur, those are UAVs. Look like MQ-99s. They're nasty, but they're fragile and they're not top of the line or anything… just fight safe and we'll be fine," I interjected.

"Yeah, these drones have great agility…" Knocker started.

"Mage 2, fox two," I warned, interrupting, but the UAV easily trashed my first R-60. It wasn't so lucky on the second. I pulled an Immelmann, continuing it over the top to dive after the next drone.

"HQ, this is Golem 1, bandits confirmed as UAVs!" he reported.

"Golem 1," came the reply. "That doesn't matter. Destroy all bandits and get out."

Knocker and Clown bantered among themselves as I chased my quarry over the treetops. It juked one Aphid, popped flares for a second, but was unable to lose a third launched at point blank range. "Mage 2 here, two drones down. We're wearing them down."

"Enemy UAV confirmed destroyed. Hell yeah!" Was that a touch of pride in Clown's voice I was detecting?

I pushed my Flanker a little too hard climbing up to meet a third MQ-99, briefly stalling out before recovering and sliding neatly onto its six.

"Golem squadron, you're not gonna let Mage get all the glory, are ya?" Knocker chafed. "Surround 'em!"

"Knocker, remember what we talked about last night. I'm just trying to get us all back home safe," I shot back. "Fox two!" Miraculously, this particular Aphid managed to track the drone right through heavy cloud cover and slammed into it with a satisfying explosion.

His wisecrack about buying drinks for whoever took one down - I remembered that one well, because the ass hadn't followed through the last time when I'd killed all the drones myself - never came. _Huh. Maybe I'm getting through to these people this time. There's a good thought. _

A full burn put me squarely behind the fourth drone, though in the heavy clouds I couldn't even make out its bearing. I fired off an _awfully _wishful R-60 at what turned out to be a fast-crossing target; needless to say, it was never going to connect. _Dammit_. Its maneuvering stopped afterward for just long enough that I was able to slam a dead accurate cannon burst right into it, disintegrating the Erusean hardware in an instant.

"One to go!" AWACS informed us. "Let's get through this without any casualties."

I blew past drone 5 head-on, pulled a post-stall to get in behind it - nearly catching a Sidewinder from Knocker in the process, _dammit I'm being reckless again _\- and _easily _tagged it with a final Aphid. _The dumb drone didn't even try to turn._

"Nice kill, Trigger!" Brownie crowed. "Enemy aircraft confirmed down!"

"Skies are clear," AWACS reported. "Return to base."

"Mage 2, wilco. Good eyes up there, Sky Keeper."

A brief silence, which Knocker decided to fill himself. "No casualties out there. Couldn't have gone any better."

"I don't know," Brownie equivocated. "Maybe the bandits we shot down caused civilian casualties…"

"No point arguing. That's how war is these days," Clown said. Knocker concurred.

_That's a talk for the mess hall tonight, I think. _"Enough of that for now, guys. All friendlies made it out. Let's go home, huh?"

/

**A/N: Thankfully, I think I can explain how SRAAMs like the Sidewinder and Aphid can be used on ground targets at least. Continuous-rod warheads, though notably not pure HE-frag, **_**do **_**have the ability to penetrate armor, though it requires a top attack to penetrate anything that's not a soft target. The biggest challenge is really getting the seeker heads to track a ground target, since, say, a T-80 puts off a lot less heat than the tail end of a fighter jet, so an IR seeker tuned to pick up a jet would ignore the puny output of a tank, and one tuned to target vehicles would likely fly off into the sun or at least at any flare countermeasure immediately. This can be resolved with the inclusion of an imaging infrared seeker head like on the ASRAAM; the imaging software can still pick out the shape of a tank, as an extension of its original purpose of ignoring flare countermeasures (which… I'm gonna have to ignore, since flares are 100% effective in AC7, go figure). So, in Strangereal, every standard missile type has been retrofitted with a continuous rod warhead, an IIR seeker, and a mid-flight-programmable pop-up top attack mode. Is this realistic? In theory, yes, but in practice, probably not - I'm imagining trying to cram all that into the hardware of an R-60 and laughing my ass off - but it's about as close as I think I can come to any kind of sensical methodology for the multi-purpose weapons we've had all throughout the series. **

**Don't ask me, though, how the hell the Kh-31 works. Is it an ARM? Is it an AShM? In either case, how the hell can it lock on to an APC? Whomstdveville the FRICK knows?**

**More technical terms:**

**Kh-31AD/PD / AS-17 "Krypton": Russian/late Soviet supersonic anti-radar/anti-ship missile. It's most commonly deployed in its ARM variant, but is also a highly-effective ASh weapon. The Kh-31 is essentially a greatly-scaled-down version of the massive Kh-41, itself an air-launched variant of the terrifying P-270 Moskit/SS-N-22 Sunburn ship-to-ship missile. Its ARM variant has a passive seeker head and coasts at around Mach 3.5 at high altitude to search for its prey; the AShM is a sea-skimmer which uses terminal active radar homing. The -D variant is longer and thus has a longer range. Both variants carry a roughly 200lb shaped charge warhead. There is a Chinese copy - the YJ-91 - and a rumored long-range anti-AWACS variant, though no details are extant.**

**Weapon brevity codes: Radio callouts used to concisely inform friendlies of active weapons in the vicinity. There is no such thing as a friendly missile, so it's helpful to allies looking to not eat a wayward heatseeker. GUNS or GUNS GUNS GUNS is exactly what you think it is, and is a good indicator to not be in front of the person calling it. Fox One is for semi-active radar homers. Fox Two denotes a heat-seeking weapon, perhaps the most dangerous sort. Fox Three indicates an active radar homer, which, while not as dangerous as a heat-seeker since the active radar seeker is a terminal guidance mechanism (as in, it only activates when close to the target, as opposed to an IR head which is always on, even on the launch rails), can still track a friendly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Magnum is for the launch of an ARM, and is more for the benefit of folks on the ground - it's the cue to make sure your radar systems are well and truly off, because ARMs are even more of a wildcard than a heatseeker. Other codes exist, per the US Army Field Manual, FM 501-5-1, Appendix E (these are the codes used in the Ace Combat series so far, so I'll be using them here), such as Maddog for the short-range launch of an active radar homer in full active mode (it more or less acts like a heatseeker, and should be gotten the hell out of the way of in order to prevent a significant friendly emotional event), Bruiser for anti-ship missiles, Rifle for AGMs, Bulldog for cruise missile launch, et cetera, as well as codes for ground-launched missiles. Given the ambiguity of air-to-ground weapon guidance modes, I'm just going to omit the callouts for them wherever it might be ambiguous, hence the lack of Magnum/Bruiser/Rifle callouts for the Kryptons here (because seriously what the hell).**

**AH-64 Apache: The current US Army attack helicopter, apparently in heavy use in Strangereal by both Osea and Erusea. The variant in-game is either the D or E model - they're difficult to tell apart externally with the resolution available, but they definitely carry the rotor-mounted Longbow radar system. They are intended as superlative anti-tank platforms, carrying a 30mm autocannon alongside the AGM-114 Hellfire ATGM and Hydra 70 fin-stabilized rockets, and possess some anti-aircraft capability in the form of optional AIM-92 Stinger F&F IR-guided missiles (an adaptation of the FIM-92 MANPADS for aerial usage). **

**C-17 Globemaster III: The most advanced jet transport aircraft in the US arsenal, also apparently in service with multiple nations worldwide in Strangereal. Intended to replace the C-130 Hercules as a mid-range lifter, but ended up supplementing it due to much higher expense; it possesses most of the capabilities of the Herc, such as excellent rough field and short takeoff performance.**

**Immelmann: An upward half-loop followed by immediate righting of the aircraft's attitude. Derived from but actually differs from a dogfighting tactic named for German WWI ace Max Immelmann; the original, now known by other names, was not a true half-loop but instead a near-stall maneuver executed with the rudder, to similar effect - an increase in height combined with a 180-degree change in direction with little lateral movement. Increases in aircraft mass and thrust have rendered the original mostly a thing of the past.**


	3. Operation Dual Wielder

_**May 30, 2019**_

_**1500 hours**_

_**Chopinburg Rainforest**_

_**Mage 2 Trigger**_

It was a bright and mostly sunny afternoon when Clown and I made it to the combat zone above the Chopinburg Rainforest. The sun was already a good bit of the way down, creating a beautiful sheen off the top of the clouds. _GodDAMN, flying never gets old._

The familiar, friendly voice of Sky Keeper came over the airwaves to greet us. "Mage Squadron, this is the situation. Golem and the other base's squadrons have already joined forces and are engaged. You guys will arrive right in the middle of the action."

I took a moment to assess the radar picture being beamed from Sky Kepper, then punched into full afterburn towards the fray, nosing up into a shallow climb.

"Mage Squadron, eliminate all bandits in the current airspace. We have the upper hand, but that doesn't mean we can ease up. Good luck," the AWACS directed.

"Tally ho bandits, Vipers and Phantoms!" I called to Clown, as my own radar picked up and classified the targets.

"Mage 1, wilco," my alleged lead replied, only slightly annoyed that I'd blown off ahead again. Turbulence rocked my plane as I passed through the intermittent cloud cover; I pitched up further to get above the layer and gain some height over the bad guys.

"Mage 2 to Golem 1. Backup has arrived. It's showtime, Knocker."

"Thought you were gonna leave some kills to us for once, Trigger," Knocker chuckled. "Get in there and get some pressure on these guys."

I leveled the Morgan off, picked a target, and then gently banked left, casually slotting behind an enemy Viper. My plane entered into a shallow diving turn, easing off the throttle all the while.

"Trigger, time to show the other guys that we get wet, wild, and do dirty, dirty things!" Clown called.

"Christ almighty, Clown! Mage 2, engaging!" I called, as another Viper came to the aid of his wingman, entering into a head-on pass with me. _Not my first rodeo, _I thought darkly. _I've played chicken with much tougher people than you, buddy._ "Fox two, fox two," I announced, two AIM-9Ls streaking out from underwing and directly into the bandit who had no time to react. Meanwhile, I'd already entered into a sharp dive into a split S, sending my blood streaming into my legs, breaking off my original target but causing the return shot to sail past.

"Mage 2, bandit down. Excellent work," came the confirmation from Sky Keeper.

"And so your first hunting season begins," Clown commented with audible pride.

I pulled the Morgan out of the dive, leveling off and punching into a full burn towards an incoming pair of would-be avengers, an F-4 and another F-16. I called my shot again, and two more Sidewinders easily splashed the Phantom as I dove under the return fire from the accompanying Viper and to the left.

An unfamiliar voice crackled from the radio. "Enemy reinforcements. I don't like these odds." _Oh, right, I've got their radio frequencies plugged in from last time 'round._

_Ah well_. I came around behind the F-16 with a hard high yo-yo to the right. _Oh, right. Dogfighting is tough on the body_, I remembered sheepishly, as I was unceremoniously shoved back into my seat and to the left from the acceleration. Two more AIM-9s ended its career.

Then my radar warning receiver went off. "Shit, Mage 2! I'm spiked!" I announced, hoping somebody'd take care of it for me. "No dice," came Clown's reply. "I've got someone on my tail too!" _Nothing to be done about it,_ I internally shrugged, jinking left into a downward barrel roll to avoid an incoming shot from the Phantom that had rudely and foolishly decided to slot itself into my six. I continued to abuse the Morgan's ridiculous turning radius, almost casually rolling into a sharp right-hand turn to get behind it. Another pair of Sidewinders at point blank range. Kill.

"Friendly lost!" came a desperate Erusean voice, contrasting heavily with Sky Keeper's triumphant "Four remaining!"

I spotted another Viper on my radar closing fast on a cross trajectory after a friendly, throwing my bird into full military and downward to intercept. Though it was undoubtedly crossing too fast for my AIM-9s to track it, my gunsight didn't fail me, despite my vision filling with red from the sharp nose down, as I blasted a nice, pretty line of holes across the bandit's fuselage. Sky Keeper's count continued, "Three remaining!" before another friendly bagged a kill themselves to bring it down to two.

My radio quite handily picked up its comrades ordering it to eject. _Better you than me, bud. Sorry. Hope he punched out_.

A desperate plea for help came from one of the two remaining hostiles. "We need reinforcements now!" Spotting the last two, I entered full burn upward chasing one of the last two Vipers. I snapped off two more Sidewinders as soon as I got tone, earning another kill. The last dove into a cloud to escape, but I managed to pick him out in the cloud, sending one more pair of missiles after him. The AIM-9s swerved wildly in the cloud, but still managed to strike home.

A note of pride in Sky Keeper's voice: "Our radar shows no sign of bandits. You're in the clear."

"I haven't even broken a sweat!" Clown crowed.

"They have to be crazy to pick a fight with us! A rabid dog would know better," another friendly - didn't recognize the voice - agreed.

But I knew better. "...Or," I said, "they have some sort of trump card up their sleeves. That was too easy. I've got a really, really bad feeling about this. Keep your heads on a swivel and be ready for anything."

"Trigger, you worry _way _too much," Clown chuckled.

Right as Bitchin' Betty in my cockpit began yelling at me right on schedule. _MISSILE ALERT!_

Knocker was the first to act. "Missile incoming! Evade! Evade!"

"Break! Break!" my lead shouted.

I slammed the Morgan into a barrel roll at full burn and focused on my evasion as best as I could; there was an absolute onslaught of missiles and it taxed my piloting skills losing them all.

"I'd say I told you so, but I'm too busy trying not to die!" I managed to sputter out.

"Wait, what the hell?" Sky Keeper shouted over the comms, clearly on the edge of losing his own cool.

I heard Brownie's voice above the rest of the chatter - "Caution! Missile!"

Sky Keeper continued, regaining his bearings. "Heads up! A large aircraft is approaching. All aircraft, stay alert!"

"Ah, _fuck_," I moaned, as the Arsenal Bird broke through the clouds.

"We've got UAVs closing!" someone from Skeleton called.

"We just learned that Erusea is utilizing the Arsenal Bird. Those bastards. They had that thing combat-ready this whole time!" came the analysis from the AWACS.

"Sky Keeper, this is Skeleton 1. What do we do about that monster?"

In the background I picked out Brownie trying to maintain some semblance of order, calling for a break in formation, but the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.

"We're just waiting for mission command," Sky Keeper replied. _Not a good start, AWACS. Fuck, time to do something. _I summoned my best command voice from my Strider 1 days and thumbed the mic.

"Mage 2 to all friendlies! Shut up and _listen up_!" I boomed. "That is _way _too many drones to take on at once, and that monster's got wicked missiles. My bird's got onboard electronic warfare equipment. Stay on my ass and in my jamming range if you wanna live!"

"Solid copy, Mage 2, good call!" the AWACS replied, audibly relieved that _someone _had their head still on their shoulders. "Mage, Golem, Skeleton, Gargoyle squadrons, _form up on Trigger!_"

"Good quick thinking, Trigger! We'll live through this!" Clown cheered.

"Damn right if I've got anything to say about it! Drones are closing to firing range. Activating ECM and ESM!"

"Pick your targets, make sure you don't lock on any friendlies. Engage in formation!" came Knocker's call. _Everyone's starting to reassert themselves. Good. _

The radar warning receivers died down as the jamming took hold. The drones were nearly unable to form any sort of lock, and buzzed like flies around our formation, seemingly desperate for any kind of purchase. The occasional Sidewinder blazed out from a few drones, but none hit home, the drones unable to do much more than lob them in the general direction of the jamming signal.

"Mage 1 to friendlies. Let's shoot down the drones first, then we can deal with big bird."

A volley of callouts and subsequent weapon releases rippled out from the friendly swarm as we dove through the MQ-101 horde. A dozen drones fell to the initial concentrated and accurate fire in one pass, though many more drones slipped away from the barrage.

I could hear the frustration in Brownie's voice. "Damn, these guys are maneuverable. I can't land a hit!"

And then, predictably, things went to shit, because the Eruseans weren't _stupid_.

Sky Keeper's voice came over the comms again. "Warning! We're picking up a massive E-band spike on our scopes from the Arsenal Bird, power increasing steadily. It looks like it's trying to burn through the jamming."

"Uh-oh. A plane that big's gonna have one hell of a radar on it. This isn't gonna last forever, kill as many drones as you can! Everyone, let loose at will and then back the hell up!" I ordered, mind racing.

The drones kept falling, but not fast enough. Twenty kills, twenty five, thirty….

My RWR pinged with greater and greater intensity, until it registered a solid beam.

"Shit! Arsenal Bird's got a solid lock on me! If the drones are slaved to it, that means they can shoot too."

"Be advised, HQ's tracking your progress. Hold steady and maintain air superiority! We can do this!" came the AWACS, with a note of what sounded like genuine confidence.

And then the Arsenal Bird unleashed a huge volley of missiles, and the remaining drones joined in on the alpha strike, diving into the formation like farmhands into a wheat field.

"All planes, evasive actions, now! Negative, Sky Keeper! Target has overpowered my EW suite. We have to break off! There's more missiles than sky out here, we're gonna get slaughtered!"

"Copy, Mage 2, all units break. Stand by, communicating with HQ now! Remain calm!"

My worst fears were realized but a few moments later, as the damage started to rack up.

"This is Skeleton 4, sustained cannon fire, having difficulty maintaining altitude."

"Skeleton 2 hit!"

"Shit, I can't shake the missile! Golem 4 ejecting!"

"Gargoyle 3 here, I see Golem 4's chute, thank God, but I took some shrapnel and one of my engines is non-operational!"

And then, worst of all...

"Golem 2! Missile! Evade!" I heard.

"Evading…"

"Golem 3. Golem 2 is hit!"

"Status report! Shit! Golem 2, do you copy?" Knocker almost _begged_.

"This is Golem 2. Instruments still appear to be functioning okay."

Knocker had had enough. "AWACS, we can't keep this up! Talk to us!"

"Hold on, transmission from command. I'm patching it through." _Huh, that's different._

"HQ here. We concur with on-site threat analysis. We're reading insufficient forces to take down Arsenal Bird at known capabilities, with negative friendly reinforcements available. Withdrawal authorized, we're calling off the operation. New directive: minimize casualties and return to base for debriefing."

"Understood, HQ," Sky Keeper acknowledged. "All units, disengage and withdraw to the east. Get out of the Arsenal Bird's missile range ASAP. Undamaged aircraft, perform rear-guard for the wounded allies. Draw the drones southeast away from their escape vector. I'm reading Gargoyle 3, Skeleton 2, Skeleton 4, and Golem 2 damaged. Head east-northeast at best possible speed."

"Gargoyle 4, you're out of an element anyway, go with them, they need an escort. We'll keep the drones occupied," Clown decided. _Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope._

"Clown, send me instead," I interjected. "My bird's faster than his, I can get back to rejoin you faster."

"You sure, Trigger? Alright, I'm trustin' you on this one. Gargoyle 4, form up on me. Everyone, regroup, draw the fight away from the big bird's missiles, and keep those drones off the damaged folks!" _Haven't gotten to hear Clown's command voice in a while. Good man._

Knocker took over. "Heads up, those drones are fast as hell, way faster than us, but they mostly just use that to do blind pursuits. They're not smart. Dissimilar tactics! Set up Thach weaves and pick them off your buddy's tail when they go for it!"

_Yes! Without the brutal losses, their morale is still high and they're still thinking straight. These are the rock stars I knew. God, I fucking love you, Knocker. We're gonna pull this off!_

"Golem 2 here, still got my wings! I can still fight!" _Uh-uh, not on my watch._

"You won't make any difference up here. Get back to base and cool your head!" Knocker ordered. "Golem 4, got one on your six. Weave in and I'll pick him off!"

_I'm intervening. _"Brownie, _listen to me_. Get out of here. You need to _trust_ me._._"

/

**May 17, 2019  
1800 hours**

**Fort Grays Island**

**Mage 2 Trigger**

"Hey, Brownie," I said, moving to take a seat opposite her in the officers' club. She was eating alone tonight, which was odd for her. _Probably a good choice to follow up on talking with her later._

Brownie gave me that odd look again from the night before our last sortie. "Hey," she mumbled over her chow. _Or not?_

"This a bad time?" I asked cautiously.

"Hmm? ...No, I guess not. Just got some things on my mind."

"Oh? What's up?"

"You sure? Well… alright. A couple of things, Trigger." She took a deep breath. "First, the thing about those Eruseans we - mostly you - dropped today. Landing on civilian areas. What if we killed civvies today?"

_I'd certainly had a lot of time to think about this one._

"I don't doubt that we at least destroyed people's homes on accident today, Brownie. It'll be the same every day. There's no getting around it." I drew a deep breath of my own. "But… if we don't fight to the best of our ability, then one of _us _might get killed instead. It's kill or be killed out there. And if one of us dies, the war goes on longer, and even more people die. I'm out there to end the war as fast as I can so we can save as many lives as we can manage. So… if I have to drop someone on your tail and they crash into a neighborhood… I'm not going to like it, but big picture, I'd rather it be them than you. I'm not letting any of my wingmen die."

"That's a hell of a lot better than Knocker and Clown's 'that's just how it is, get over it,' isn't it? I guess I can accept that," she smiled.

I nodded.

"But there's something else, too, about that," Brownie continued.

"About what?"

"I get that you're out there trying to keep us safe. But I've never seen someone as obsessed about it as you are. And you… don't take this the wrong way, but you were acting kind of shady the other night." She sort-of-glared quizzically at me.

_Fuck. She knows -something- is up. I don't know if I can hide it any longer._

"Brownie… yeah, there's no point in hiding it. There's something up and I'm not being entirely on the level. I couldn't hide that from you. Never could. I… I know some things in advance. We make it through this next op and I'll tell you everything, I promise. But trust me when I worry about something, because way more often than not, I'm right."

"Excuse me, you _what_?" she demanded.

"Exactly what I said. Haven't you noticed that I'm always in the right spot to take advantage of the situation changing? I was practically hovering over those drone containers today. And I was more or less right behind the bombers before AWACS even called them out on the first day."

"What the shit," Brownie replied, flatly. "What are you, some kinda Jedi?"

"I wish, Brownie, I wish. If I was, I could do more to save everyone. As it is? Oured Federals will beat the Bana City Blues in an upset 4-3 tonight off a 3-run homer from Gonzalez in the top of the ninth inning. And yes, I will be betting on that, because the Air Force doesn't pay me enough for this shit."

_What? I'm a baseball kinda guy. I'd never forget a game like that. What good was reliving the past if you couldn't get through it a little richer?_

"...You're dead serious, aren't you?"

"Don't believe me? Just watch!" I pulled out my tablet. "They should be about to go to 1-1 soon."

Sure enough, two hours later, Romeo Gonzalez - the pitcher of all people! - blasted an absolute whopper of a drive straight out of the park live on ONN on the last out of the ninth inning's upper half with Henson and Buckner on first and third. Bana City clawed back two runs in the bottom of the ninth, but were unable to bring home a third to launch the game into extra innings.

"What _are _you?" Brownie whispered.

"One point four million zollars richer!" I guffawed.

She tried to muster a response for that. She really did. She tried _valiantly_. And then just gave up, burying her face in her palms and doing her absolute best not to laugh in spite of herself.

"Seriously, though. Brownie," I said, after the moment passed.

"Yes?"

"I _promise _I will tell you everything. But only if you make it through the next one."

"Why wait?"

"Point blank? I need to know you trust me. So when I tell you to trust me… _do it_. I'm going to save everyone's lives that I can and I can only do that if you listen."

"...I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. _Once_. And if something bad happens because of it, I'm running you into the MPs. _Got it?_"

"Entirely fair."

/

_**May 30, 2019**_

_**1516 hours**_

_**Chopinburg Rainforest**_

_**Mage 2 Trigger**_

A moment's hesitation, full of panic for me, then: "...Copy. Golem 2 disengaging," Brownie said quietly.

Perhaps twenty seconds into our withdrawal, it happened. "Retreating aircrafts, prepare for combat! Bogey closing in at high speed!"

_Oh no. It's happening again… I did NOT want to get vindicated on that one today._

"It's an Su-30, orange wingtips…"

"Shit. It's Sol Squadron!" I barked in my command voice again. "All of you! No matter what, _do not engage this guy. _He'll fucking kill you. _Run. Hit the deck, lose yourself in the ground clutter, and get as much power out of those engines as they'll give you. _Sky Keeper, I'm engaging." As the wounded allies began diving for ground cover, I snapped around as quickly as possible to intercept the incoming bandit.

I switched my transmitter to a radio frequency I'd long since memorized, greeted by Mihaly A. Shilage's too-familiar voice.

"...My status is fine. Affirmative."

I keyed the mic, and summoned as much gravitas as I could manage. "Turn back and go home. This is your only warning."

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" _Calm, but questioning._

"Mage 2 Trigger. I know who you are, Archange. 'King of the skies,' maybe, but you're not taking any of my squadron this day, Mihaly."

"You block my path? Interesting." _A query, with a hint of a challenge._

"I will defend my comrades with my life." _A challenge that I answered._

"So be it. This will be fun."

I flipped back to the other frequency. "He's taking the bait. I say again, _do not engage. Keep running._"

And so began what would later be called in the press, pieced together from first-hand accounts from the survivors of the Chopinburg engagement, _the Dual-Wielder Duel._

Our respective mounts charged headlong at each other in a high-tech joust, Flanker-H versus Morgan. Both of us launched our opening thrusts with a pair of heatseekers, Aphid against Sidewinder, both jinking to our respective lefts in near perfect synchronization and easily trashing the other's shot.

What transpired next was not so much a dance of aerobatic mastery between two sages of the art as a wild, frenzied brawl between two madmen; the only true exception to this was that Archange was much more conservative with his shots, while I fired at the slightest hint of a lock, banking on the assistance from the electronic warfare suite to help the missiles strike home, despite the jamming aspect being nearly useless under the data link from the Arsenal Bird's overpowering radar array.

The dogfight itself was an arduous back-and-forth that pushed machine and man to its limits. No sooner would Mihaly begin to get tone than I would jerk into a near-blackout-inducing flip, flipping the combat on its head and forcing him onto the back foot while dodging a hopeful cannon burst. A perfectly timed Cobra from Sol 1 would turn the tables yet again, turning me back into the hunted. The two of us would dance around in a post-stall drift, our engines pounding at the air behind and keeping us aloft by sheer brute force as we spun at dizzying angles. And so it went, a constant back and forth with both men scrabbling for any purchase they might find to land a blow on the other.

His Su-30SM was very nearly a match for my own bird. The Morgan had a tighter turning radius while pulling its maximum G load, but the Flanker's post-stall performance was much better, so I mostly aimed to draw and keep him in normal flight regimes and joust, while he continually threw his plane around the sky to force me into his own territory - though my own skill was sufficient to out-turn him if I had to, at the cost of bleeding far more energy than I'd have liked.

For several minutes, the engagement dragged on. Until I noticed something: Mihaly's movements began to slow slightly. And then I realized.

The old man simply couldn't ignore his age.

In Sol 1's cockpit, I imagined, Mihaly A. Shilage must be at the edge of consciousness. He'd be out of breath, each one shallower than the last, his heart beating at an unsustainable rate for a man in his sixties trying to force the blood upwards into his brain, every movement an exercise in pain and overexertion. Every sudden hard turn and punch of the afterburners would feel like a giant stomping on his chest. His vision would be alternating between red and dark tunneling, far faster than a normal man could deal with. Even for a man of his training, it would be taking its toll.

I was experiencing all the same symptoms, of course… but my body was far more spry than his.

That was my true advantage.

All my experience fighting him in the… past? Future? Whatever it might be, it was for nought. Mihaly had fought many other aces in his career. I was surely not the first to have a read on him. In the past, when Mihaly was at his peak, he might well have had my number regardless. But there's no ignoring the ravages of time. He was always going to lose a contest of endurance against someone less than half his age.

And I think he knew it too, deep down.

Just to be sure to drive the point home, as I followed him through a high-G barrel roll, I called out one last, triumphant "Guns, guns, guns!" and saw a stream of bullets strike home, his dodge starting a fraction of a second too late, only enough to divert the blow from center mass to shear off an entire wing instead of neatly bisecting his aircraft.

The Flanker-F spiraled out of control, sailing towards the earth in a tailspin.

"Mihaly! Are you alright? Eject!"

And then… the impossible happened right in front of my eyes.

"I'm alright. Plane is flyable. Barely. I'm attempting to bring it home. Enter the AO and cover my withdrawal."

That son of a bitch _actually managed to pull out of the spin_. He appeared to be holding the plane level on pure control surface and thrust-vectoring brute force. Archange slowly, almost painfully brought his bearing around to the north-northwest and shot off at high speed - a necessary thing, given his lack of lift area. _After all, _I realized, _just about anything can fly if you get it going fast enough_.

I considered pursuing, but then realized that the rest of Sol was likely not far off, and I didn't fancy my odds, low on ammunition, against all four of them at once - or, worse, three, while one, still a seasoned ace in their own right, slipped past to intercept my retreating and heavily wounded allies.

"We'll meet again, Osean," Mihaly said quietly over the radio, quickly limping into the distance.

I didn't have much time to think of a response, because AWACS chose that moment to speak up. "Trigger, this is Sky Keeper. We registered that engagement on our scopes. Great work out there. No further threats to the withdrawing aircraft at this time on radar. Return to the main formation and aid their withdrawal."

With all threats gone, I punched it back to Clown and flew cover until the Fort Grays planes managed to Weave the clear the sky of MQ-101s, all either shot down or withdrawing.

"Knocker, Trigger. You brilliant SOB! I'm reading we got everyone back that made it through the first barrage?" I called triumphantly.

"Damn right, Mage 2. Nobody dies on my watch either. Wasn't so bad after we got out of range of the big bird's missiles." Knocker's voice was swelling with pride. "But what about you, Trigger? I was keeping an eye on you when I wasn't busy swatting the flies. I've never seen moves like that before!"

"I wasn't gonna let that Flanker bastard kill your wingman, Knocker."

"Yeah. Thanks for keeping her and everyone else alive, Mage 2. You know I'm not just gonna say some dumb shit to give you a big head, but dammit, you flew like a real ace today."

"Damn right, lead. I'm proud to call that man my wingman today," Clown joined in.

Despite all the adoration heaped on me as Three Strikes… I quite nearly lost composure. This hit me far harder than any other praise, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why. "Thank you, sirs!" I managed to get out.

Brownie, though, didn't say a word to me - or to anyone, other than "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" - for the entire flight back.

/

_**More technical notes!**_

ADFX-01 Morgan: A Belkan prototype aircraft dating to the end of the Belkan War. Can carry either prototype burst missiles, the OG aerial directed energy weapon, or a powerful electronic warfare suite. Notably, while it is ridiculously agile and packs some serious engine power, it does _not _have thrust vectoring engines, so while one can force it into post-stall maneuvers, they have to be extremely quick about it; the flight regime is limited because the plane can't compensate with thrust too far off its axis of momentum. This is the aircraft Larry "Pixy" Foulke flew at the conclusion of Ace Combat Zero.

F-4E Phantom II: A large, heavy, venerable multirole aircraft formerly used by all branches of the US military that maintain fixed wing aviation, and widely exported world-over to US allies, such as Britain, Israel, (West) Germany, South Korea, Iran (at the time), and Japan. Designed as an interceptor and originally armed exclusively with air-to-air missiles, the meddling of then-Defense Secretary Robert MacNamara and his obsession with commonality across branches resulted in its modification for all sorts of missions, proving to be an excellent bomb truck, reconnaissance plane, and SEAD platform, as well as fulfilling its role as a fighter reasonably well in Vietnam against North Vietnamese MiG-21s, MiG-19s, and MiG-17s, even without a gun and with outdated tactics and unreliable missiles. When a gun and better fighter pilot training were introduced, in combination with the rapid development of SEAD tactics more or less destroying the North Vietnamese air defence network, it quickly became a dominant platform. While no longer in service in the US, it still flies with a few operators around the world; Iran and Turkey continue to fly it on strike missions in the ongoing war against the Islamic State, and it is expected to fly through 2020 in Japanese service.

AWACS: Airborne Warning And Control System, a blanket term to describe various heavy aircraft outfitted with large radar sets and electronic warfare suits and loaded with operators and coordinators to help manage the controlled chaos of aerial sorties. Typical AWACS radar sets boast an effective range of hundreds of miles, a huge advantage over ground-based radars that are limited by a much nearer horizon. Osea, as well as most other Strangereal operators, appears to primarily use the E-767, a Boeing 767 airliner converted by Boeing to an AWACS platform for Japanese use. Presumably, their navy also uses the E-2 Hawkeye, a purpose-built and smaller prop-driven AWACS unit that can be stored on, landed on, and launched from aircraft carriers.

Bitchin' Betty: The name given by aviators of all stripes to the computerized voice - there are several different women who have lent their voices to this role over the years for different manufacturers - in the cockpit. An authoritative and distinct female voice was selected after studies showed that pilots simply listened better to female voices.

Arsenal Bird: One of two airborne drone aircraft carriers built by Osea for the purpose of protecting the International Space Elevator. Loaded to the gills with weapons, carrying 80 MQ-101 combat drones, capable of indefinite flight thanks to power beamed directly from the Space Elevator by microwave, and equipped with the first known energy shield in all of Strangereal, the Arsenal Birds are terrifying threats at _best_. So, naturally, the Oseans didn't think about the possibility of the Eruseans capturing them, and of course that's exactly what happened.

MQ-101: A fast and highly maneuverable drone fighter clearly based off the Boeing X-45 UCAV prototype. Armed with short-range missiles and a gun. Greatly improved over the previous MQ-99 drone model.

Thach Weave: A dissimilar air combat maneuver tactic developed by then-Lieutenant Commander, later Admiral John Thach and then-Ensign, later ace Medal of Honor awardee Butch O'Hare of Navy squadron VF-3 in the leadup to the Pacific War, specifically designed to even the odds between an inferior plane and a superior one in a dogfight. Thach was familiar with the reported superiority of the smaller and lighter Japanese A6M Zero in a dogfight to American aircraft such as his F4F Wildcat (thanks to intelligence from Chennault's P-40-flying 1st American Volunteer Group fighting in China), and set out to develop tactics to negate the Japanese advantage in the event of a war. An element or flight would split into two and bait an enemy aircraft to latch onto one's tail. The two halves would then turn into each other, crossing paths and quite nicely bringing the pursuer into the other half's gunsights, forcing the enemy to either disengage or brave a torrent of crossing gunfire from their target's wingmen. After the first test run (in which Thach handicapped his flight's engines to 50% power and had Ensign O'Hare's second flight fight them on full), O'Hare told Thach: "Skipper, it really worked! I couldn't make any attack without seeing the nose of one of your airplanes pointed at me." Thach's flight had won every single engagement with O'Hare's men. The LTC went on to successfully test the tactic in combat at Midway in 1942, earning three kills himself and one by a wingmate, as did his comrades in the Marines fighting on Guadalcanal, and from there it became a standard tactic for all Navy, Marine, and Army Air Force pilots and aviators. Performed properly, the tactic is nigh-unbeatable close in, and is still valuable today. Against a "dumb" and predictable foe like the MQ-101s, this would be extremely effective if performed calmly and coolly.

Su-30SM: A variant for domestic Russian use of the export-only Su-30MKI for the Indian Air Force. The MKI is a highly advanced derivative of the Su-30, itself a two-seat variant of the large Su-27 fighter - also the base model for the Su-35S - featuring thrust-vectoring nozzles, canards, and advanced joint-venture avionics and weapons systems. The Su-30SM - _serial modernized_ \- is further improved over the MKI to meet Russian Air Force standards with an even more advanced radar and electronic warfare suite.

PSM: Post-Stall Maneuvering or _supermaneuverability_, a very freeform mode of flight wherein the plane, reliant on engine power alone, is no longer bound by most of the norms of aerodynamic mechanisms. Generally but not always, this requires the use of thrust-vectoring engines; at minimum, it requires very favorable design with these sorts of handling characteristics in mind (for example, the MiG-29 _is _capable of performing a full Cobra with a highly skilled pilot despite its lack of thrust vectoring). Western designs tend to mostly eschew this capability, though the Raptor is capable of supermaneuverability if necessary; Russian fighter aircraft on the other hand are near-universally capable. This is a result of different combat doctrines regarding energy retention, wherein NATO emphasizes maintaining energy and momentum to gradually win a dogfight while bleeding the opponent dry, while the Russians generally prefer much more quick and aggressive dogfight tactics. As PSMs tend to bleed the aircraft almost entirely of energy, they are a poor fit for NATO doctrine but ideal for Russian usage.

/

**A/N: Delicious. Finally, some good fucking plot divergence. In which Trigger finally tries out a superplane, determines that yes he can change events, pulls a Biff Tannen and gets rich, trusts someone with his secret, and gets into the kind of dogfight that I ****_wish _****I could pull off online against Kot on PC but usually ends in me dying in about five seconds because my PSM-fu is ****_weeeeeak _****and he just makes an Su-35 ****_dance_****. And also in which we establish firmly that the Eruseans are not holding the Idiot Ball and can react to Trigger's shenanigans to an extent, even if their average pilots don't hold a candle to him. Oh, and, if Jesus and Italy exist in this world, I can say Star Wars does too. Die mad about it.**

**Yes, you can fly a plane without a wing. Technically. An Israeli F-15I performed this feat in real life, and then of course we have the infamous Solo Wing Pixy.**

**Shoutout to Saproneth, author of several great works but in particular my favorite crossover of all time - Saruman of Many Devices - who gave me a follow after chapter 2. Good to see you around, buddy. You've been an inspiration to me. [heart] **

**A second shoutout to Fighter's Honor which I totally didn't play on repeat the entirety of my time writing this today.  
**

**I'd also like to dedicate this chapter to the great folks on the /r/acecombat discord. **

**Apologies for how long it took, and for anyone following me as an author and hoping for an update to A Little Bit of Monika. I've been going through Some Shit at college - some of the biggest assholes I've ever met in alleged teaching professions - but I finally graduated last week! I'm packing a specialized business degree as an administrative medical assistant and an NHA certification to boot, and I moved in with my best friend the same day (in a city with godtier public transportation, hell yeah!). Life's finally looking the FUCK up.**


	4. Operation Lighthouse Keeper

**One tiny pre-chapter authors' note: I don't care what anybody on the /r/acecombat discord says, I still find it very dumb that Mage and Golem are flying in all the way from Fort Grays in official canon at this point, by my estimate about 3000ish miles from Gunther Bay (leaving aside the ridiculously tiny size of Usea in Ace Combat 04 that was swiftly dumpstered), putting a strain on logistics and tiring out the pilots. As it's my damn story, I'm forward basing them a little bit.**

**Another tiiiiny thing to handwave: the ridiculous ability of pilots to fly multiple aircraft of varying types with no prior experience in them. I'm going the huge payloads route and just **_**ignoring **_**it because fuck if I'm gonna explain that away. We'll be taking the AC5 route and applying that proficiency to everyone.**

**Also, would you believe we don't know the names of literally any of Trigger's squadronmates, except that Jaeger's callsign is just his last name? To borrow from a certain chairbound prankster, I'm unfucking this posthaste.**

**(Also also! Gamermarine, yes, that was me. I do have an alt account. Thank you again for that review.)  
**

**/**

_For this reason, We made it a law for the children of Israel that the killing of a person for reasons other than legal retaliation or for stopping corruption in the land is as great a sin as murdering all of mankind. However, to save a life would be as great a virtue as to save all of mankind._

_The Quran, Surah al-Ma'ida 32, as translated by Shaykh Muhammad Sarwar_

**/**

_**May 30, 2019  
1947 hours**_

_**UNAS Comberth **_

_**Andrea Geir, Golem 2 Brownie**_

_What the shit._

Sky Keeper told us after our escape that with the losses the IUN-PKF suffered, there were no tankers were available, so we were forced to stop off at the Scofield base for fuel on the way to our current base of operations at Comberth Harbor.

We left our damaged planes at Scofield. The mechanics took one look at our birds and told us in no uncertain terms that they'd all have to get shipped back to the factory, if they could even be salvaged at all. As such, the wingless pilots - like me - all got loaded onto an Air Force Learjet for the last leg. The Air Force was going to ferry us some fresh rides overnight, but until then we were firmly in the care of the personnel service.

Which unfortunately left me with a lot of time to think.

Trigger was always kind of a weird one, nothing new about that, but the _way _he was weird was hard to put a finger on. Wade was an outgoing person, big into baseball, physically average in just about every way, had the usual movie posters in his room, standard guy stuff. Almost a walking stereotype, except that he definitely wasn't dumb muscle - big into books, especially alt history stuff, and Shakespeare too for some reason. Even had one of those skulls on his shelf, because he _loved_ being a walking cliche. "_I was a theatre kid,"_ he always said. Probably explains why he's such a good improviser.

But there was always a kind of… I don't know how to describe it. Just a sense that something was _off _about him in some strange way that was always right outside in your peripheral vision. Don't get me wrong, Wade was a good friend, and I was glad I knew him. But there was always this feeling that there was more to him than meets the eye, a few layers down.

The little confrontation I had with him after we took the Scofield airbase felt like… like a gut punch while getting a bag ripped off your head at the same time. He knew the _future _somehow. I wouldn't have believed it if he didn't literally call play-by-play on the ball game seconds in advance the whole time as it happened, and messed up maybe twice in two hours.

It was amazing, but holy shit was it also terrifying. I mean… that shit's not _possible. _It's one of those things your parents drilled into you, that nobody knows the future (though I don't think any of them meant it in this context, I guess). And yet here was Jeff's - Clown's - number 2, reading it right in front of you like something out of a damn book.

The thing that stopped me from running straight off to the MPs right then and there was the way he'd started acting right before the war started. Trigger was always reckless while he was learning the ropes with Jeff. Like, reckless to the point that I didn't understand how the guy let him join the squadron or how he even got into the front seat of a trainer.

And then… when the shooting started… he was still gung-ho, but something changed. Trigger turned into the biggest papa bear you ever met in the skies _and _on the ground. Like a total mom friend, except this one had a modern fighter at his fingertips loaded with enough explosives to sink a fleet. Mind you he still flew off on his own constantly, but he was right when he told me that he always made sure he was in just the right place at the right time. Nobody was ever on my tail or Jeff's or Lucian's for more than about five seconds before they went down in a fireball. It was like having our own personal, watchful, _terrifying _guardian angel.

Speaking of Lucian, I don't think my lead knew what to make of him either. He was never Trigger's biggest fan, said he was way too hotheaded, but then he'd turn around and say, "Then again, knowing my wingmate, I don't think I can complain too much if Clown wants to put up with it, I guess," with a wink and a nod. Was he wrong? No, but it was still _rude_. Anyway, at the same time, he would tell us, never when Trigger was around though, that the guy had more potential than the rest of us put together if Jeff could tame him.

From the looks of it, Clown was better off _not _taming him. The rest of us just slowed Trigger down more often than not.

All of that was fine and good. And I listened to him and agreed to wait with any more questions until after our next sortie - today.

But I'll be honest. If that chat after the Scofield op left me shaken up, the events of today had me terrified and questioning my sanity.

Trigger _knew too much_, for one thing. About everything.

For another, what the _hell _was that plane he was flying? It didn't match up with any bird I knew of, and I studied the recognition manual pretty thoroughly. Including paging through it on the Learjet flight back.

Where the _actual fuck _did he learn to fly like that? Osea hasn't had a pilot like that since at _least _the Sand Island Squadron, and Trigger was maybe a year out of the academy. Yet here he was, flinging a fighter around the sky like physics was his _bitch_, and fighting the King of the Skies to a standstill! That's so beyond impossible I don't even have words for it.

And… I think the biggest question I had was… _why me_? It was obvious from the get-go that, while he was trying to save everyone, for whatever reason he was focused on getting me out alive. The way he immediately objected to not being sent off to escort us home, the way he'd insisted I trust him after Scofield and then… directly invoked it today at just the critical moment. He was protecting me. Why? That, I think, was messing with me more than anything else.

I needed answers. Before I had a mental breakdown.

So, when the Learjet landed at Comberth, I did the only thing I could think of. I beelined straight for Trigger's quarters and pounded on the door.

"Wade! You open this door and you open it _right the hell now_!"

The door swung open an instant later, inside it standing Trigger, looking more tired than I'd ever seen him.

I slammed it shut behind me, locking it on the way, and got directly in his face. It took all my self-control not to grab his neck and throw him against a wall. Yeah, I was not feeling put-together at the moment.

"Kid, you are going to tell me everything and you are going to tell me _now_. Understood?!"

Trigger just nodded, then backed off and reached for his fridge, pulling out a bottle of what looked like Stoli fresh out of Yuktobania, some round ice, and a pair of shot glasses. "Drink. You're going to need it," he said simply, pouring a shot each. I obeyed. Three quick shots in, he started talking.

"It goes without saying, but you can't tell a soul about this."

I nodded, and he continued.

"Andrea… I've done this before."

"You what."

"This. The entire Lighthouse War. We won. I was there for the whole thing from day one. Shot down both Arsenal Birds personally - well, the first one was an alley-oop with Stonehenge. Led us all the way to Farbanti, and then to the Space Elevator. I _ended it myself_."

"Bullshit," I said simply.

"Part of me wishes it was. The war was over. I was living life after it. Good life too. They treated me like a hero for months, and then they put me to work training the next generation. And then one morning on leave, I woke up, and it wasn't 2020 any more."

"You do realize that's impossible, right?"

"And yet here I am. Here _you _are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, a little more angrily than I actually felt.

A pause, then his voice dropped to a whisper and I saw tears forming. "You died, Brownie."

"I… what?"

"Mihaly killed you," he said, his voice dead and haunted. "First your escort, then you. I watched it happen. I _heard _it happen. You begged for support over the radio, but I was too far away and the others were dropping to the drones too. You died alone and terrified and whimpering and screaming. 'He's a predator,'" Trigger said, imitating my voice a little too well. "'The weak get eaten.…'"

I'd never seen a real thousand-yard stare before. God willing, I'll never see one like that again.

"Is… is that really…?"

"I saw it in my dreams for the rest of my life, Andrea. I can recount every second of it perfectly."

There's no real way to describe the feeling of knowing that you _absolutely should not be alive_. It's simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. A feeling of relief and joy, combined with a feeling of total wrongness. Like you can _feel _a timeline splitting, somehow, and that's the best I can give it. To this day I still have no idea how to talk about it properly.

"So that's why…"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Mihaly wasn't going to take you today, no matter what."

_Trigger risked his life to save me._

"But… if you've seen this all before, and I died, but now I'm alive… isn't that going to change what happens?" I thought out loud.

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. But I have to try. Too many good men and women died in the Lighthouse War. Good people who didn't deserve to die, whose faces I see every night, whose families I met after the war. I'm going to save as many as I can. You. Wiseman. Tabloid. Full Band. High Roller. Champ, even. General Labarthe. The Belkan families on Tyler Island." He took a deep breath. "Harling."

"Harling?" I asked, a little fearfully.

"He's a hostage at the Space Elevator right now. Next week, they'll send us in to rescue him. The mission will fail, and I'll be framed for his death and sent to a penal squadron in Zapland."

"Where I assume you'll meet all of the other people you just named."

"Yeah. Well, most of them. And also my wife."

"Oh," I said, not really knowing what else _to _say to that.

"Which… presents kind of a problem."

"Because Harling has to die for you to meet her," I replied, putting it together. "The rest of the squadron might not get into trouble without you, but you will absolutely not meet her if you don't."

"Right. But I can't just sit back and let Harling die, or worse just shoot him myself. That'd be wrong on so many ethical levels…"

"Maybe there's some other way for you to get to Zapland?" I mused.

"I doubt it, 'cause it's not like they're exactly advertising there's a penal squadron out there, but I'll keep trying to come up with something. If I can't, though, then… well, there are other girls out there too. I love Avril, but… I wouldn't kill Vincent Harling to be with her. I couldn't live with myself like that. Sacrificing someone else's life for my own happiness? I'd eat a gun sooner or later."

"Ugh," I groaned. Ethics made my head hurt. Trying to get through the subject in college was a horrendous experience. _I Kan't believe I'm actually using this right now_.

Oh. There was one other issue…

"That plane. What is it, and how in the world did you get it?"

Trigger just shrugged. "What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino?"

"...what?"

"Elefino."

"Huh?" I sounded it out. "El if I… hell if I know. Very funny, Wade. I'm serious."

"I am too. I have no idea. I literally just walked up to the hangar thinking about how I needed a jammer and there it was. It's got the Grunder Industries logo all over it and I think it said something about being called 'Morgan' and that's all I know about it."

"Oh, so you're just a casual reality bender too?" I said, through my rapidly increasing headache.

"Apparently."

"Fuck me, I'm not half drunk enough for this shit," I moaned, reaching for more Stoli.

He poured himself a shot, too. "And I thought it was bad the first time around. Welcome to my life."

/

_**May 30, 2019  
**__**1959 hours**_

_**Erusean Air and Space Agency, Whiskey Flats Facility**_

_**Somewhere along the Amber Mountains on the southwest edge of the Whiskey Corridor**_

_**Wolfgang Schroeder, Ph.D., RRA (3. Klasse mit Schleife)**_

Much to my surprise, Mihaly did not return home in his Su-30 that day. Instead, he was ferried to the desert, an hour behind schedule, in an Erusean government C-1. I had begun to worry about my subject, as had his granddaughters, whose emotions had gone from annoyance to worry to fear to outright panic, but in the chaos of the outbreak of war...

Communications systems were no less vulnerable than any other to having their needs under stress vastly underestimated. Even Belka was not immune to this problem, our systems straining under the pressure of the War of Osean Betrayal; Erusea's network had simply collapsed under the strain of coordinating a continent-spanning offensive. As a result, only high-priority dispatches could filter through, and, much to my chagrin, I was not such a person with that sort of pull. I took a moment to squash that thought. I could brood about taking offense later. Mihaly had returned, looking very much worse for wear.

"Papa!" Alma shouted as he stumbled out of the plane. The girl took off in a full sprint towards her grandfather. One of the guards escorting him tensed, clearly unfamiliar with this base and his family, but Mihaly waved him off and shakily got down to a knee to embrace her. _Something very untoward happened to him in the skies, I'm sure of it._

"It's alright, _gyermekem_. I'm here, I'm okay. I'm sorry I worried you."

"I was so scared," she sobbed into his shoulder. I had to admit I was a little touched by the display. The whole family was usually somewhat stoic and elegant, but here was genuine emotion. Likely, there was some excess stress added from my getting uncharacteristically flustered trying and failing to get in contact with Erusean command about Mihaly's whereabouts. _The children must have picked up on that._

"Grandfather," Ionela said, strolling up more calmly. Visibly, anyway. I had been observing her long enough to tell her true emotions, of course. "What on earth happened? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Ionela, I am sure. I met a… most interesting Osean pilot today." Mihaly chose his words carefully, darting his eyes over to me for long enough to give me a message - _We will need to discuss this immediately_. "He fought harder than any I've encountered so far, and kept me from accomplishing the mission the Eruseans gave me - but I am quite sure Doctor Schroeder will be interested in all the data I gathered for him today. I may explain more after I have a talk with the Doctor."

_A pilot able to fight off Mihaly? Surely none of the aces of the past wars are still in Osean service, are they? The Ribbon has refused to return for a _fourth _term, Wardog Squadron is still enjoying their own retirement - except the one in space - and no one knows where the blasted Demon is… _

_This is a new development._

"When you're done with your granddaughters, Archange, come see me. You know where to find me. Did they manage to salvage your flight data?"

He just motioned over his shoulder, where a pair of soldiers were offloading a large crate of some sort. _Good. The flight recorder survived. _

/

_**May 31, 2019  
**__**940 hours**_

_**UNAS Comberth**_

_**Golem 2 "Brownie"**_

Colonel Wainaina brought the pilots all together into the briefing room the next morning - the largest room available to us on base.

"Good morning, ladies and gents. As you know, yesterday was a tough one. As such, we're doing a little bit of reshuffling. This, along with another announcement I'll be making shortly, means we'll be seeing some changes in our flights and elements from here on out. I'll get to those in a moment, but that's what's affecting everybody."

He took a breath, then continued. "But first, Trigger, if you could come up here, please?"

I looked over at Trigger, who took a breath of his own before standing and joining the CO.

"As you may know, Second Lieutenant Francis' quick thinking and decisive actions yesterday were instrumental in bringing the overwhelming majority of our engaged planes home despite overwhelming odds over Chopinburg. He then went on to successfully hold off, by himself, and critically damage an aircraft that we've since confirmed belonged to Colonel Mihaly Shilage of the Erusean Air Force, who you may know better as the so-called 'King of the Skies,' a task that put him directly in harm's way in an exceptional manner. Trigger's actions merit some very high praise indeed. To that end - you were due for it anyway, but I've secured your promotion to First Lieutenant, Trigger." Wainaina reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver bar to replace the butter bar on Trigger's collar.

Everyone around me started clapping. There was at least one shout of "_That's it?"_

The Colonel just chuckled and said, "Settle down, everyone. If it were up to me, Trigger'd be leaving this room with a Silver Star too, not to mention an Outstanding Unit ribbon for everyone else, but that's outta my hands. Have a seat, Trigger. But now, for the rest of you."

The reorganization means we'll be shuffling around our flights a little bit. Since Trigger now rates his own section, we'll be expanding Mage to two flights, moving one of our own over at Knocker's suggestion, and bringing in a fresh face from outside. That leaves us with Mage 1 Clown, Mage 2 Faun, Mage 3 Trigger, and Mage 4 Brownie. Golem Squadron will also be _temporarily _reorganized. In the short term, Boggard will be flying as Knocker's number two. Faun will arrive on base in two days, as will another fresh face, Redcap, and we'll get you guys up in the air to fly with them as soon as possible. Their arrival was originally meant to expand Mage to two flights, but with the events of yesterday, we've had to adjust accordingly."

I just stared, shellshocked.

"In the meantime, we all know that no man gets left behind. Those of you capable of basic math might notice that doesn't neatly add up to four flights, and that's because we've picked up a distress signal from Skeleton 4. We have reason to believe that our own man Footpad has linked up with him and Gargoyle 3 somewhere in the Chopinburg Rainforest below the combat site, and they are currently evading Erusean search teams."

A projection of the area with the estimated location of our downed guys came up on the screen. It showed two jets, two attack helicopters (Comanches by the look of them), a pair of rescue choppers (stealth Blackhawks?), and a few red markers for Erusean ground forces and search helicopters.

"As such, command has quickly laid on an operation to get them back, and the assets are already on schedule, just waiting for us. Given the sensitive area of operations, we'll be sending in a limited, low-profile package in low-observable aircraft at nap-of-the-earth altitudes to buy as much time before detection as possible. This is where you come in. Trigger, I'll be sending you and Brownie right back into the fire today. You'll be up in the air at 1015, so you'll be gearing up and heading for the flight line immediately."

The flight plan is simple - provide any and all necessary support for Air Force Pararescue to locate and retrieve our pilots from the Chopinburg AO. If all goes according to plan, resistance should be fairly minimal, mostly eliminating Erusean ground teams and their support, but be ready for anything. Try and stay below angels one at all times, but the safety of the rescue unit takes priority. In the AO, the JTACs are the very voice of God. You know the deal." Wainana paused for a brief moment. "I'd tell you more, but we laid this one on _fast_. More details and precise coordinates will be provided via data link en route. The two of you will find a pair of Raptors waiting for you in the hangar; the ground crews have already prepped them to go. Any quick questions? No? Then get moving and bring our people back. Dismissed, both of you. That doesn't mean the rest get to slack off, though. HQ has another assignment for us..."

Trigger and I hustled off to the locker rooms to suit up as Wainana continued his briefing, and found ourselves in the cockpits of a pair of shiny new Raptors minutes later.

/

_**May 31, 2019  
1300 hours**_

_**Approaching the area of operations above the Chopinburg Rainforest**_

_**Mage 4 "Brownie"**_

"So, Trigger," I said over the tightbeam laser comms, "what do you think about all this?"

"This?"

"You know, all of this. Did this happen before?"

"Oh," he said. "No, no it didn't. I guess they think the aerial situation isn't quite as bad here as they did then, or else they wouldn't have dared sending us in for this op. And of course there wasn't you being put on my wing for obvious reasons. Can't say I'm upset with this turn of events, though."

"Yeah, I like being alive," I laughed. "But you have no idea what's going to happen now."

"Absolutely none. Guesses, at best. We've got a solid plan though. I've been mulling it over and I'm having a hard time seeing where it goes bad, unless Big Bird is hanging out a hundred klicks away or something."

"Please don't say that," I groaned.

"If you think I believe in luck after finding out everything I knew about time is wrong, Brownie…"

"Right. Fair."

As it turned out, he wasn't wrong. For once, everything actually went according to plan. Small Erusean ground teams were quickly dispatched by Trigger's small-diameter bombs and the escorting Comanches, and I easily blew their accompanying choppers to bits with AMRAAMs without warning. Erusean interceptors didn't appear until the rescue helicopter was already out of harm's way with our boys safely on board.

Granted, we did still have to hold them back to prevent pursuit. Eight Erusean fighters entered the airspace...

"Brownie, got one on my tail. Clear it for me, I don't want to break off this guy."

"On it, boss." The Flanker was stuck to Trigger's tail something fierce, but he didn't have a chance when I swung in behind and got tone while his attention was on Trigger's plane. "Aaaaand… fox three! You're mine. You're clear, Trigger."

"Quick and efficient. You're good, 4."

Coming from _my _lead, that was high praise. I actually blushed a little, despite myself.

"It's nothing. Bandit trying to slip past at treetop. I'm on him, fox two, fox two!" I said, lazily split-Sing onto their tail and blowing them out of the sky.

Eight Erusean fighters entered the airspace. Trigger and I left that same airspace with five kills on him and three for me.

Plus four helicopters for him and three by me - and then there's the Erusean ground forces he leveled pretty much by himself. Figures, all he had was heat-seekers and bombs and he still made me look slow. But, I have to say, not quite as slow as I was expecting. Apparently, we worked well together.

"Sky Keeper, Mage 3," Trigger called. "Verify, but AO appears sanitized, rescue unit is in the clear and home free. Let the Colonel know the boys are back in town."

...When I didn't want to strangle him. He and Clown should have switched callsigns.

_**/**_

_**May 30th, 2019  
**__**2018 hours / 1515 hours**_

_**EASA Whiskey Flats / Chopinburg Rainforest**_

_**Mihaly Dumitru Margareta Corneliu Leopold Blanca Karol Aeon Ignatius Raphael Maria Niketas A. Shilage  
Sol 1 "Archange"**_

_Go ahead, Mihaly. _

I was, as you know, assigned to the Chopinburg area to operate alongside the Arsenal Bird, where we had intelligence that Osea was planning an aerial offensive. I wasn't expecting to get the call. The Arsenal Bird could handle itself. But then the AWACS - Tarasque today - informed me that a single Osean fighter had wiped out all of our aircraft in the area. I was… intrigued. Tarasque ordered me into the area in case the pilot proved to be a threat to the carrier.

In the end, it wasn't necessary, since the Arsenal Bird forced the Oseans on the defensive and made them withdraw, but I took the opportunity to go hunting for stragglers. I wasn't about to leave empty-handed. I felt the need to test myself against the new generation of pilots.

It was about then that the situation became… strange.

A lone Osean pilot interposed himself between the withdrawing bandits and my formation. This was not unexpected, but his movements had a purposefulness and a style that intrigued me. Then a voice came over the radio on our frequency. He said, "Turn back and go home. This is your only warning."

_On our own frequencies? That's interesting..._

I am unsure how this man had access to our radio channels.

I interrogated him, and he identified himself as "Mage 2 Trigger" and declared he would defend his allies to the death. More interestingly, he called me out by name, despite not being in visual range of my squadron.

_That is quite irregular. Continue, Archange._

Naturally, I accepted his challenge to test us both.

When I got close, I couldn't help but notice - I had never seen that aircraft before. It had two large, widely spaced engine nacelles with a large gap, twin inward-canted vertical stabilizers with no horizontals, forward-swept wings, and upward-angled canards. It also had some sort of jamming array, but the Arsenal Bird's radar had long since burned through it, and I shared the datalink, so it was not a factor.

_Mihaly, I will be right back. I need to have a look at your flight data immediately. … ...Archange, there is no mistaking it. That was a Morgan - a prototype Belkan aircraft from the end of the last war against Osea. What we are looking at is flatly impossible. All such aircraft and all technical specifications were destroyed by Grunder Industries to prevent their capture, and the preproduction model was destroyed in combat by the Demon Lord; I know for a fact that there was not enough left for the Coalition to salvage. I need to know absolutely everything you can tell me about this Osean. We are looking at an unprecedented - no, possibly world-changing enigma._

Very well, Doctor.

_**/**_

_**June 6th, 2019  
**__**1000 hours**_

_**UNAS Comberth**_

_**Mage 4 "Brownie"**_

On paper, the plan was, again, pretty simple - according to the Colonel and his adjutant, anyway.

Trigger would infiltrate under the Erusean radar net, destroy the Space Elevator's makeshift ADN, and then Sea Goblin would swoop in and extract Harling in the confusion. All eight of us in the Grays squadron would provide backup, so there was no way anything could stop us.

Of course, I knew it wasn't going to turn out like that.

I mean, I didn't need to know the future to tell you that, but it sure helped.

/

_**June 6th, 2019  
**__**1801 hours**_

_**Gunther Bay**_

_**Mage 3 "Trigger"**_

"Entering operation area. Imposing radio silence. We'll radio you, but you are not permitted to make contact."

I toggled my mic in acknowledgement of the AWACS controller's guidance, then went dark. I was back in the seat of my preferred Su-35 loaded for bear with R-77s for this one. The jammer on the Morgan was nice, no doubt, but I needed the raw killing power of my familiar, faithful steed from… Goddammit, from the last time around, if I was going to pull Harling out of this alive.

A pre-plotted detection range overlay appeared on my screens.

"If you're spotted, the mission is lost. Stay out of enemy radar. Use of weaponry, obviously, is also strictly forbidden."

I quickly turned to the south - speed being of the essence here - and beelined for what I knew to be the shortest route through the net.

"You're heading up the Harling rescue mission. The success of this mission depends on you. Good luck."

I pushed into full military and kept my speed just under supersonic to avoid sonic booms as I motored for the gap in the radar at the lowest altitude I could safely manage. The ice buildup would be a problem, so I couldn't go _too _low, but I was still firmly in nap-of-the-earth territory.

Sky Keeper shifted into silence as I slipped through the coverage at a firm 650kts almost effortlessly through the hole to the south, then pivoted north around the southern bend of the middle band of coverage. A gentle turn through a gap in the final band, and I punched into a full burn at the elevator…

"Trigger, the first stage of the mission is clear. Don't celebrate yet, the real fight's about to get started." A pause, and then: "Radio silence is now lifted. The auxiliary craft will arrive shortly."

"On it, Sky Keeper. Clearing the LZ with extreme prejudice."

A whirlwind of death swirled around the Lighthouse as I annihilated the defenders. In no time at all, the Grays detachment arrived to find a clean sweep.

"Trigger! Sorry 'bout the wait. Cavalry's here!" came Clown's friendly voice.

"Moving to your six, Boss," Brownie called coolly. She was flying an Su-35 of her own - "_You really like that bird, don't you? I'll give it a go and see how I feel about it."_

"Golem squadron! Trigger jumped through the fire! Now it's our turn." _Never change, Knocker._

Before the reinforcements even made it to my position, Sky Keeper made the call.

"The landing zone is secure. Sea Goblin, you're clear to land."

_Dammit_, I remembered. _Sea Goblin. None of them have designators. I can't help. They're still gonna fucking die… fuckfuckfuck. _

I tuned out their response - and their future communications in general. _PTSD much, kiddo? _

"Sky Keeper here. Multiple bogeys detected over Selatapura Harbor. Assumed to be enemy container-launched UAVs, tagged as bandits, you're clear to engage. Rescue craft is defenseless."

"Copy, Sky Keeper," I replied, punching the afterburners and rocketing north. "Brownie, on me. I'm moving to intercept over the launch point. Clown, think you can pick up anything I miss?"

"Sure thing, _Commander,_" Clown teased. "No, good idea, Trigger. I'll hang back and let you do your thing."

Two Aphids into containers on the ground, then I rotated up and around behind one of the already-launched UAVs as I easily dodged a poorly-targeted shot from the other. I knew this drill already. Another drone launched, and I took the time to splash both with quick R-60s before easily wiping up the rest of the launch containers. And then I heard Sea Goblin's last transmission - the charnel sounds of their explosive demise.

I simply hung my head in sorrow and mouthed a silent prayer for their souls.

"This is Colonel Johnson. Do you copy? Rescue unit down, along with the soldier who had this radio. I will get Mr. Harling out of here."

"Sir, this is Sky Keeper. We feel the same way. We'll get you out of there," AWACS reassured.

A pause, then:

"Be advised, we found an Erusean transport craft. Engines still on. Don't shoot."

"Affirm, Colonel. All callsigns, transmitting via datalink now. Be advised, callsign is Mother Goose One."

This time around, I was listening for it, and I could swear I heard President Harling chuckle in the background as Johnson's indignant "_That the best you can do?!" _filtered back to us.

Meanwhile I loitered over the coast, picking off the occasional truck that attempted to perform a sneaky launch under me. Not sure why they even bothered. They were signing their own death warrants, really.

"All aircraft, Harling's aircraft is ready to take off," Sky Keeper advised. "Mother Goose One, you're cleared."

"Affirmative. Mother Goose One taking off. Mister Harling wants to extend his thanks to you beforehand."

"Let's wait 'til we're home safe, Colonel," AWACS cautioned.

I chose that moment to speak up. "Sir, Mage 3, TAC Trigger. We appreciate it immensely. We're not safe yet, but we'll get you both out of here if it's the last damn thing we do."

"Trigger..." Sky Keeper sounded unamused at best.

"You're both right. Let's just get out of here," the Colonel replied.

"Affirmative. All squadrons provide support for Mother Goose One as it withdraws to the south. Estimate five minutes until it makes it out of the airspace."

All seemed fine, but I knew what was coming…

"Sky Keeper, picking up bogeys, a ton of 'em, bearing two-two-zero!" Knocker sounded panicked.

The AWACS checked his scopes and clearly did not like what he saw. "Shit. Confirmed MQ-101s. The Arsenal Bird is coming."

/

_**_**June 6th, 2019**_  
1811 hours**_

_**Mage 4 "Brownie"**_

The loud _priority comms _tone went off. Trigger's set, of course. "Everyone stay calm and keep your cool. We can do this. We literally did this last week, and it doesn't look like the big bird's coming into the sector itself. All we have to do is keep the drones off the Goose. We don't need to be scared of that monster."

"Yes, sir!" I acknowledged, as enthusiastically as I could. _And definitely a lot more than I was feeling_.

"Trigger's right. We can do this. Mage, fly out to intercept. Golem, screen behind them. Keep the drones away from Harling's transport," ordered Sky Keeper, his calm demeanor returning.

"Golem 1, wilco. That last fight taught me a lot about those assholes. Golem 2, form up on me. We're going Thach weaving again." And there's Knocker's command voice. _God, what a guy. I'm gonna miss him._

Golem 2 acknowledged him and formed up tight as Trigger and I dove into the incoming swarms. The two of us unleashed barrages of Adders at them, scything through them like… something you'd compare a couple of forces of nature to, really. Trigger's kill count was far higher than mine, but I'd noticed I was doing far better than I was previously now that I was flying under him. _Maybe his style is rubbing off on me?_

"Gargoyle squadron, where's the signal?" I heard one of the Tomcat boys asking. _What signal? Nobody told us about any signal…_

"But without the lighthouse… I mean, the harbor… how are they going to get home?" _Wait, what? _I thought, dodging an errant heatseeker almost without a care.

I wasn't going to find out the answer, as they abruptly switched frequency, but I had a bad feeling. Still, the four Mage birds continued to rip big, oily holes in the incoming drones. And then I saw a huge line of explosions heading towards the elevator, as literally dozens of Erusean drones exploded. _Some sort of massed attack? Wow, those Gargoyles are doing a… oh_. _**Oh no**__._

An explosion rocked the space elevator as what looked like a Phoenix struck it directly, and then I knew.

Those fuckers tried to destroy the elevator rather than let the Eruseans capture it.

_What the fuck?_

I tried to process it as Trigger and Knocker both went off, for different reasons - Knocker for the lack of coordination, Trigger over the total stupidity he'd just witnessed, even as the latter continued knocking down drone after drone after drone.

The chatter came to a halt as one slipped past us, and I saw the missile impact the cockpit of the President's Osprey… and then it righted itself and began to fly right back towards the space elevator.

"Mr. President!" Trigger practically screamed over the radio.

"Trigger, calm down," Clown tried to say, but Trigger cut him off.

"Mr. President, it's Trigger again. I _know _what you just saw. I can't believe it either. But we _have _to get you out of here. You can't do this. You can't. You need to come home. We need you. The people need you. We have to get this war under control and _you're the only one who can. I'm with you to the end. Please_. There's no guarantee about what happens to the space elevator, but there are plenty about what happens if we don't have you home..."

A deafening few seconds of silence, even Knocker and the AWACS stunned speechless, stretched to feel like ten minutes as the rest of us continued to protect the craft.

And then…

"...You're right, Mage 3," Harling's voice came faintly over an audibly heavily damaged radio. "I… you're just right. I'll try and get this thing out of here. Thank you. I was… about to do something foolish."

Mother Goose One managed to turn again, back towards the south.

_Holy shit._

"All aircraft, Harling's craft has returned to a proper escape vector. We just need to hold out a little bit longer," AWACS called, trying to restore order. Acknowledgements flooded in on all channels and we set up for a last stand as an actual horde of MQ-101s appeared on the scopes, heading right for us.

The drones closed in, moving less like machines and more like sharks following a scent of blood as they stalked Harling's wounded craft. All of the other pilots fought hard to clear the little birds, but there were just too many…

I swallowed deeply, my heart racing, and I made my decision, one I'd been agonizing over for a week. _This is for you, Trigger._

And then my heatseekers, as intended, struck the Osprey cleanly at the wing root, and the craft exploded.

/

**And on that bombshell...**


End file.
